


HUSH

by ortonfangirl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7701163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ortonfangirl/pseuds/ortonfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl struggles with memories of the abuse from his father. Rick does his best to comfort Daryl when the memories won't leave him alone. The song Hush by Hellyeah inspired this story. I can't help but think of a young Daryl when I hear this song.</p><p>https://play.google.com/music/m/Tgun7kuluyi4mklm6dc6me4afym?t=Hush_-_Hellyeah</p>
            </blockquote>





	HUSH

**Author's Note:**

> Hell's where I was born! Hell's where I was raised,  
> This hell is where I'm from and this hell is where I'll stay.  
> The hush is all I need, to hush the misery  
> The hush that belongs to me, like the hush inside of dreams  
> Just be still and pray, and let the noise just fade away.
> 
> HUSH  
> Hellyeah

Merle pushed Daryl into the closet quickly " you stay here til I come back and get ya lil' brother and for fuck's sake keep your mouth shut. Ya hear me? hush" Merle closed the door to the closet quickly, not waiting for Daryl to answer him. Knowing he had only a few minutes based on the level of noise the bastard was making as he stumbled into the house, Merle moved swiftly away from the closet hoping Daryl would stay hidden and quiet during what was about to be a shit storm of epic proportions or what was known in the Dixon house as another god damn Friday night. 

Merle walked toward the front of the house where he could hear the bastard stumbling around, muttering under his breath "where are ya, ya fuckin' Lil shit". Experience had taught Merle it was no use to try avoiding the drunk man. There was no staying out of his way when he got this shitfaced. Best get it over with and hope he was drunk enough to not do too much damage and that beating on Merle would be enough to satisfy him before he passed out. If he could just keep him occupied maybe he wouldn't go looking for Daryl. 

Daryl slid down the back of the tiny closet wall to sit on the floor, slightly hid behind the old jackets hanging down. Fist to his mouth to stifle any noise he might make, tears running silently down his face. He knew what was gonna happen as soon as the bastard caught sight of Merle and he knew that he'd be next if the ol man didn't get his fill beating on Merle. Merle, at least, had the ability and size to fight back. Daryl was too small and too scared to even try, even though he hated hiding while Merle took the brunt of the ol man's hatred. The ol man staggered over to the beat up recliner and sat down, eyes never leaving Merle. "Where's tha lil queer brother of yours?" 

"He ain't here" The ol man stood up quickly, hand going to his belt buckle, "guess it'll be your dumb ass I beat some fuckin' respect into then" slowly pulling the belt free. Merle snorted "ya fuckin drunk bastard! I ain't gonna respect ya no matter how hard ya swing that fuckin belt" Merle keeps a sneer on his face, even as he winces on the inside as he watches the bastard wrap the belt around his fist. His god damn mouth, he thinks to himself, antagonizing the drunk bastard aint smart but who the fuck ever accused Merle of being smart? It wasn't in him to back down or show fear. Fuck that shit, he thought. He'd done enough of that when he was Darleena's age. Now a days he tried to give back as good if not better than he gets from the bastard. If he's drunk enough Merle might even get the upper hand, fight back enough that the bastard decides the "lesson" ain't worth the aggravation.

Daryl pushes his back more firmly against the closet wall when he hears the yelling start. It's not long after that he hears a sound that he recognizes from personal experience as a belt hitting flesh, or more exact a belt buckle hitting flesh. Daryl slams his hands over his ears, fresh tears running down his face. But he never makes a sound, not one sound, as he hears the belt make contact over and over, sounds of fighting and cursing long since given way to grunts and the repeated sick noise of the belt buckle hitting it's mark. HUSH. 

Daryl jerks awake, shaking. It takes a minute for him to get his bearings. It's the feeling of the warm body on the cot next to him, the hand that tightens around his, that helps ground him in reality. He realizes what or rather who woke him from the fucking nightmare when the man laying next him speaks. "Its just a dream darling. That asshole is long dead and you're safe here with me." Daryl turns to face the man, resting a hand on his chest, another on his waist. "Rick".


End file.
